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I’m in Finisterra at the hotel. I still have 3 km to the end of the world.

This picture says it all. Take a close look at the numbers. I’m done. The next step I took was towards home.

In a few months I hope to understand and grok what I did. I’m still to close to it to truly understand.

Heading home tomorrow. I take a bus from Finisterra in the morning to Santiago. Over night in Santiago. Take the train from Santiago to Barcelona on Tuesday. I have Wednesday free to tour Barcelona. On Thursday I fly non stop to Oakland.

I will stop blogging as my agenda is simple. I see nothing worth writing about.

Some closing thoughts:

This a unique experience. It’s not like any other thing I’ve done. I have backpacked on the east & west coasts. But never walked this much in one effort.

The Camino, to me, is the people you meet. Staying in the albergues allows you to interact with people from all over the world. With different backgrounds and goals. Some are lost and seeking an answer. Other, like me, want to define a transition. Some for religious reasons others non-religious reasons. Some just enjoy walking with friends There are a thousands why’s.

There’s lots of solitude. Time to think and refection. You walk alone if you want or not.

If by blogging I have inspired you to think about walking/biking the Camino then I’ve been rewarded. And if invited to join you I’ll be there.

I’m in Santiago. Walked for 26k. A weird day in that the way was very crowded. Lots of pilgrims on the road. More in one sighting then other whole days.

It started raining on the way in town. Found the pilgrim office. My wait was 1 hour but well worth it. The gal that helped me was from Dublin, CA. S all world.

I’m here for the next two days then off to Finisterra. A small town on the coast. Also called “the end of the world” in olden days. It’s a 3 day walk.

I need to be in Barcelona on the 25 for return flight.

As it’s was raining the other day I was reminded of walking to elementary school in the rain. I had to wear a yellow slicker and rubber boots. All as chiclets had to wait for the mother hen to let us cross the street. Wasn’t there another color? A different style? Anything other then looking like the rest? No wonder in middle school and high school when it rain I arrived wet.